I arrived back at my room, set on inviting Portia to the moonwalk. I had a picture in my head that once under the stars, stuffing ourselves with sweets and vodka, I’d have the bottle to apologise for being so horrible and put things back on track. But things had changed in the room in my absence.
Portia was reading Nun of Your Business – last year’s copy – the one I had co-edited. But I didn’t have a chance to speak to her about moonwalking or making up, because Honey dived on me like I was her best friend in the world.
‘Darling!’ she said as she threw herself on me enthusiastically. ‘I am sooooooo seriously sorry about deleting the messages from Billy. Please forgive me,’ she begged, seeming genuinely contrite. ‘I’m almost certain I remember what they all said.’
What could I do? Apart from hug her back? ‘Of course I forgive you,’ I told her, not just because I was surprised and curious – although I was – but because I was totally weirded out by what she was wearing on her nose. I guess there is no nice way of putting this. Honey was wearing a big, black metal sharp-pointed beak.
‘What have you had put on your . . .’
‘Oh, this?’ she asked, nonchalantly tapping the monstrosity perched on her face. ‘Sister thought, it was best. It’s a nose guard.’
‘Sister Regina?’ I asked, shocked that the adorable lovely little Florence Nightingale of the infirmary would stoop to such artifice.
‘Sister Dumpster,’ Portia said, from behind Nun of Your Business.
‘So, Portia, do you fancy going for a moonwalk this evening?’ I asked lightly.
‘Her name is Dempster, actually,’ Honey snapped at Portia – that is, she was trying to snap, but her words echoed inside the iron beak.
Portia hadn’t replied to my suggestion, in fact she hadn’t even looked at me. I looked at her mother staring out at me from the family photograph then looked at Honey, the ultra aristo-psycho toff. She looked like a monster, a victim of torture. The Girl in the Iron Beak. It was completely bizarre.
‘Daddy said I should sue,’ she said with a sigh. The metal nose made her sigh sound really nasal and common.
But I didn’t laugh.
Portia huddled further towards the wall. I think she might have been laughing.
‘Poor you,’ I remarked, more or less for the sake of it because even though I was furious with her for deleting my messages, and for the trouble she’d brought on Star, she was Honey. ‘So, Honey, what were these text messages from Billy you deleted?’
‘I told you, just heavy breathing, a little smutty for your wholesome American taste.’
‘Heavy breathing? Smut?’
‘Darling, you really don’t want to know.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ I told her firmly.
Then Portia’s voice added, ‘So do I.’
‘Oh, darling, what’s that top you’re wearing?’ Honey suddenly squealed, which made me jump six feet in the air as the words echoed about her nose. ‘It’s divine!’
I looked down at the stretched-out-of-shape white-ish T-shirt I was wearing. ‘Erm, Topshop, I think it was in the five-pound bin.’
‘Oh, don’t you just adore Topshop?’ she enthused. ‘It’s so tacky and yet so happening. Wrong, but deliciously right and darling on your figure. You make it look like something Lee whipped up.’
‘Lee?’
‘Alexander McQueen, darling, everyone who knows him calls him Lee.’
Portia loudly flicked the switch on her mobile charger. Honey rolled her eyes dramatically in Portia’s direction and the look, combined with the iron beak was really quite alarming. I found myself feeling sorry for poor Bob and Sarah, forgoing the pool and the other luxury treats they sacrificed so that I could live in a room with something the carnival had kicked out.
‘Sorry, what was that you said, Honey, I missed it?’
‘I was saying, Mummy, Poppy and I sat in the front row at his last show in Paris and he totally adored us. Well me, more than Mummy or Poppy.’ She giggled. ‘They were tearing their false nails out with jealousy.’ She laughed her hyena laugh, only the iron beak made it sound like an exhaust pipe on an old car exploding.
‘He’s got a boyfriend, hasn’t he?’ I hazarded.
‘Oh Calypso,’ she hooted. ‘Even gay men like girls like me.’
‘Of course they do,’ I replied, as I wandered into the en suite to take a shower and smother my laughter.
‘I did mean it before though, Calypso. I am genuinely sorry, about before, you know deleting your messages from Billy.’
I came back into the room. Honey had just said the word sorry again and more relevantly she increasingly sounded like she actually meant it. I was so shocked, I said, ‘OK, it’s fine,’ even though I didn’t mean it. ‘But in future I’d rather you didn’t help yourself to my mobile, Honey.’
‘I was surprised that there weren’t any messages from Freddie, darling?’ Honey added, looking pointedly at Portia who was tidying up her area.
I glanced at Portia as I replied, ‘Oh I suspect he’s seeing someone else.’ I was trying to get a reaction, to test the waters, but Portia went on folding her clothes and putting them away in her drawer as composed and regal as ever. So I tried harder. ‘Besides, I’ve gone off him really. Billy and I have got something more special.’
This time Portia looked up but only because she was noticing that one of the evil fluorescent lights was flickering. She pulled over a chair, stood on it tapped the tube back in place. Then calmly she went back to the task of tidying her area. It was maddening.
Indie came running into our room and totally ignoring a bitchy remark from Honey, she handed me her phone – a tiny little purple jewel with her name picked out in diamonds around the face.
‘Calypso?’ It was Star’s voice. ‘Your phone isn’t working. Georgina’s tried to call you as well and she said to check that your SIM card is OK.’
‘My SIM card? Why?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know, she didn’t say, but she’s really insisting you check it.’
I looked over at Honey who was studying her nails with a suspicious amount of intensity. ‘OK I will but I’m more worried about you. I hate it here without you. We all do. You are coming back, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I’ll be coming back. Daddy just wanted to make a point to Sister. But after this week, it’s half-term anyway, which means you won’t see me unless you come to my place for the party.’
I tried not to whine but I couldn’t help myself. ‘I really want to go to La Fiesta though, Star. I’ve never been.’
‘No you don’t, Calypso. Believe me, they are tragic!’ she assured me. ‘And full of plebs and we’re too old for that rubbish anyway.’
‘But the cashmere tops and the skirts – and the shoes. We bought the whole outfit,’ I pleaded desperately
‘They’re just clothes, darling! Please say you’ll come; everyone else is coming. We can wear the outfits at my place. We can wear them all week if you like. Imagine it: we could waft about in them like stunning figurines from the 1930s. Daddy said we can use the recording studio for the last track. I want you to be part of it Calypso, you know, on the CD? It was Indie’s idea.’
‘But I can’t sing for toast.’
‘No, on instrumentals.’
‘And what instrument would that be, exactly?’ I asked, a smile beginning to spread across my face. ‘I don’t know… triangle?’
‘Triangle?’
‘Don’t mock the triangle, darling. It’s a very underrated instrument.’
‘It does sound fun,’ I agreed, almost, but not quite tempted, well not enough to forgo my dream of La Fiesta anyway. I knew I should get over myself, but a dream is a dream and Bob is always telling me to hang on to my dreams.
‘So you’ll come?’
I was noncommittal. ‘Well, the thought of wafting about in bejewelled cashmere, like 1930s figurines and playing the triangle does have a certain appeal.’
The truth was I saw myself as a tragic Cinderella who had forever been barred from the ball. Calypso, the proverbial underdog (that’s me), was finally and firmly determined to put a stop to all those who would prevent her from attending the ball, be they Draconian parents or my closest friends.
And though I know Star loved me, she didn’t really understand. She’s been to loads of balls whereas I’d never been to one. An irrational part of me was even a bit cross with Star for not understanding and being so stubborn when she knew how long and how much I’d wanted to go to this ball. We’d spoken of little else in Los Angeles and Georgina and Star were the ones who’d persuaded my parents to let me go.
Star stuck the emotional thumbscrews on me. ‘Kevin’s coming to stay and so is Billy. Loads and loads of Eades boys are coming, coach-loads of them and I’m inviting some of the fit boys from the village as well.’
‘Billy will be there?’ I said it out loud so Portia would hear, but she merely walked into the en suite and turned the water on really loudly.
‘Yes, he’s spending the whole week and Freddie’s going to the Annual Euro-Royal-Bash thingamee. so please come.’
‘Maybe I will come,’ I agreed. The truth was, though, it was all a pose. Hearing Kevin and Billy’s names together only reminded me of Freddie and that just reminded me that he wouldn’t be at my ball but at the wretched Annual Euro-Royal-Bash Thingamee with Portia. And as lovely and fit as Billy was . . . he wasn’t Freds.
‘How is Georgina? Is she coming back? There are all sorts of rumours going around.’
‘Of course she’s coming. Everyone who matters is coming. Indie is coming straight after the Euro-Royal ball,’ said Star, misunderstanding me.
I wished I could go after La Fiesta too, but the train fare from London was about a hundred quid more, and all I had was thirty-seven pounds left to last me until after half-term.
I changed the subject back to Georgina. ‘No, I mean is she coming back to school?’
Star seemed surprised by my question. ‘Why wouldn’t she be coming back?’
‘It’s just that everyone’s saying she’s been expelled for having that flask of vodka.’
I heard her giggle echoing down the phone. ‘Oh yes, I can just imagine, Saint Augustine’s waving goodbye to Tobias’s school fees as well as hers. Tobias doesn’t require a bed, doesn’t eat and so it’s a twenty-five thousand pound drop in the coffers as far as the school is concerned. And don’t forget, Calypso, Tobias was caught with the vodka, not Georgina. They can’t pin it on her. Tobias has been suspended for a week for having vodka; Georgina has only been suspended for helping a fellow student conceal vodka.’
‘Seriously!’
Our conversation was interrupted by Miss Bibsmore. ‘Mobiles! After nine? ‘And that mobile to me immediately, Miss Kelly.’
I gave Indie a regretful look as I handed over her jewel to Miss Bibsmore. I expected her to just plop it in her pocket but instead she turned it over and over in her hand as if marvelling at its beauty.
‘Well, perhaps you best hang on to this one, Indie. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for something so lovely.’ She handed it over to Indie and blushed.
‘Thank you, Miss Bibsmore.’ Indie smiled.
‘But you can ‘and yours in, Miss O’Hare, right now.’
‘What about everyone else?’ Honey hooted through her iron beak. No one else had mentioned her iron beak whatsoever – but everyone knew full well that she was only wearing it for attention and to try and make a point about Star injuring her.
‘I’m not talking to everyone else, so mind your own beeswax.’
‘Beeswax? Sorry, no idea what that might be, Miss B,’ she said, her attempt at sounding innocent rattling through her beak like a coin dropping down a drain-pipe. ‘I don’t speak pleb slang, see.’
‘It’s the gunk inside your head that you use for a brain, Miss O’Hare. I don’t claim to be intelligent and I might well be what your type refers to as common an’ all, but at least I don’t gad about with a bit of tin plonked on my nose.’
‘Ugh!’ Honey screamed in outrage. ‘I was told to wear this nose guard after being assaulted by a dangerous criminal who has yet been brought to justice.’
‘Well, as far as I can see you’re on the loose an’ all, so unless this other dangerous criminal has a mobile as needs handin’ in, I’m not interested.’ Miss Bibsmore stuck her gnarled wrinkly hand out for Honey’s mobile.
‘I’m sooo going to complain to Daddy.’
‘I’ve no doubt you will.’
‘How do I know you’re not going to ring up all your hideous plebbie relatives on it?’
‘You don’t, but I’ll be taking it just the same an’ all, thank you. Though if I were you, Miss O’Hare, I wouldn’t go planting ideas like that in a plebbie head like mine,’ she cackled.
Honey slammed her mobile in Miss Bibsmore’s outstretched hand but didn’t let it go. ‘Before you take it, I actually need to ring that vet to make sure he’s put that hideous deformed rabbit out of my misery.’
Miss Bibsmore clenched her hand around Honey’s hand. ‘No need. I’ve spoken to the vet an’ all, and a nicer man I’ve yet to meet. I told ‘im I’ll be looking after that poor creature from now on and ‘e’s more or less agreed to drop his report as long as the likes of you are prohibited from keeping pets at Saint Augustine’s.’
‘Oh, that’s really sweet, Miss Bibsmore,’ Indie told her and Miss Bibsmore rewarded her with an awkward little cuddle.
‘You’re a lovely girl you are, Indiamaca – a real princess. A girl that certain other girls should look to for guidance. But off to your own room with you now. It’s lights out soon. Hail Mary . . .’ she began, and we joined her in a few Hail Marys before she switched off our light and shuffled off.
Alone with Portia and Honey in the dark, I turned on my torch and opened up my mobile to check on the SIM card, but there it was, safe and sound.
I went into my mobile’s phone book so that I could text Georgina and reassure her all was fine on the SIM card front, but when I went into my address book it was empty.
‘This is weird. My address book is empty,’ I said out loud.
‘I don’t see why she didn’t take your phone,’ Honey whined.
‘Probably didn’t think it was worth taking,’ I told her.
‘I was speaking to Portia, darling.’ Portia didn’t reply.
After a while Honey said, ‘Besides, your phone is such a brick, your SIM card is probably dying.’
‘I guess,’ I agreed, while not entirely convinced. It wouldn’t surprise me if Honey deleted my address book. I shone my torchlight in her face, but she didn’t look in the least bit guilty or worried but I pressed the point anyway. ‘You didn’t interfere with my address book, did you?’
‘Moi? Darling, what a horrible thing to suggest. What sort of girl do you think I am?’ she cried out indignantly.
I didn’t dwell on my broken phone for long though because Clemmie and Arabella, cuddled up in their duvets crept into our room. They were followed closely by Indie, cuddled up in hers. ‘We’ve got Body Shop specials and loads of tuck so just grab your duvets,’ Arabella ordered. ‘Oh, and your fags and torches.’